


you'll be the waves and i'll be the strange shore

by mahihkan



Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: M/M, abuse of existential crises and wave metaphors, spoilers for the pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahihkan/pseuds/mahihkan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Briggs never quite understood how Johnny could give himself over so completely to the waves. He always needed that shred of control and maybe, for him, that was why he never felt quite as free. Until the new kid shows up at Graceland and Briggs' world starts to shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll be the waves and i'll be the strange shore

**Author's Note:**

> So now I write things for shows that haven't even officially aired yet. That's new.  
> And my penchant for obnoxiously long titles is showing. Not so new.
> 
> Titled inspired by [Crashing Waves](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crashing-waves-2/)
> 
> And allow me to lovingly flop on [Sarah](http://ourprofoundbond.tumblr.com/) for being an angel and writing the summary for me.

Briggs likes surfing. It gives him control of all the pent up negative energy that manages to seep through the cracks of his carefully constructed zen. It enhances his awareness of his body’s connection to the things around it. But does he love it like Johnny does? No.

Johnny lives and breathes surfing. When the swells crash in at dawn and he catches that perfect wave, he’ll ride the crest into shore where Briggs is barely awake and smile.

“Better than sex,” he says.

And Briggs laughs, suiting up to catch his own ride. “Not in my world,” he always replies.

Johnny tried to explain it to him once. 

“You’re taking it too literal, bro,” he said. “I’m not just talking about sex. It’s like a metaphor, you know?” 

No, he really didn’t. Johnny said it was about the feeling, the search for something more, something that let you leave behind everything in your life for just that one moment on the perfect wave. He said that the waves never let him down. The waves always returned to him even if it was a different wave, it didn’t matter because it was the same water. He said surfing was his religion because it took him to heaven. Surfing made him believe that the world wasn’t so bad, even if it was just for a moment at dawn. 

Briggs never said that Johnny was great at metaphors. 

Johnny said that Briggs’ problem was that he didn’t give himself over to the rhythm of the waves. Sure, he used the waves to center his energy but he never let the waves take over. He never let the waves possess him, not like Johnny did.

“Whatever, man,” Johnny said, once after Briggs again failed to understand Johnny’s attempts at explanation. “Everyone spends their life looking for that one vibrant high, the one thing that takes you away from your norm. So you can put away all your shit and just feel larger than life for like one second, even your sanity be damned, bro. It’s all about finding the wave, you know.” 

Briggs had stared at him in awe that morning because sometimes Johnny was way fucking smarter than he let people believe. That is until Johnny started telling him about how he managed to convince his latest girlfriend that he was a Moroccan prince whose first language was French. He admitted to having gotten Morocco mixed up with Monaco at the time.

Briggs pushed him off his board into the water.

After that Briggs had stopped trying to understand Johnny’s connection to the waves and the surf, resigned himself to never reaching that kind of high. In the end he was okay with it. Guys like him never let themselves go like that. Zen or no zen. The surf would never touch his heart like it did Johnny’s. 

Then Donnie got shot and the kid showed up.

Mike Warren. The rookie fresh from the Academy who got 1700 on his practicals and reeks of the east coast. Top of his class and Briggs was practically forced to take him in. The kid didn’t even speak Spanish. Briggs, along with the rest of the house, was determined not to like him. 

It didn’t work out. Mike won over Johnny right off the bat, the traitor. Dale was in a worse mood than Briggs so he didn’t count. Lauren was a special circumstance. And really, Briggs should have known it was a lost cause when Charlie took to him instantly. Charlie could read and shut people down better than anyone he knew. She took one look at the kid, held him in a standoff, later threatened to shoot him, and subsequently took him under her unorthodox wing. It was safe to say the kid had a way of slipping past your resolve and setting up camp. 

There was something more that drew Briggs to Mike. The kid reminded him of himself - his old self anyways – all straight laced in suits and ties with his sirs and ma’ams and the rule book etched into his skin. Mike shone bright, still untouched by the filth of this job, still able to count how many lies he had on one hand. Briggs looked at him and felt pity for what this life might turn him to. 

They take him surfing and the kid can barely hold his board. Johnny gives him the better than sex speech and Briggs explains increasing his body’s connection to its surroundings. Mike turns to him, eyes playful. 

“And it’s better than sex?” he asks Briggs.

“Not in my world,” he says. Mike laughs, not understanding what Johnny and Briggs’ exchange really means. But suddenly Briggs wants to be the one responsible for that sound again.

The kid is terrible. Briggs can’t even say he bails on every wave because that would require him actually getting on the board at least once. But he’s determined and doesn’t give up, just hops back on his board and waits for the next swell. Briggs can practically see Johnny’s respect for him grow at that.

Later they return to Graceland and Mike is still high on the adrenaline of your first surf, successful or not. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he excitedly tells Johnny and Johnny just smiles knowingly. Briggs loses the rest of their conversation once Lauren approaches him. She wants him to go after Felix Arroyo and she’s not taking no for an answer. He glances into kitchen where Johnny is demonstrating some kind of surfing move to Mike and sighs. He knows it’s ridiculous but some part of him wanted to keep the kid away from the game as long as possible.

“You’re lucky you have those eyes,” he says, calls Mike over and ignores the small lurch in his stomach at the idea of sending the kid out on his first reverse. Like he said, Mike had a way of slipping past your walls. He even fucking winks at the kid while he sets up Felix’s buy. He bites the inside of his cheek to hide the grin that’s fighting to come out when the kid smiles shyly back at him. He doesn’t miss Johnny’s knowing look.

Mike ends up showing that what he lacks in experience he makes up for in smarts. He has a truckload of knockoff Levi’s to prove it. When Briggs finally arrives on scene, Felix is already gone and Johnny is still hauling Mike across the alley. His hoodie has ridden up, revealing smooth skin and sharp hipbones. His eyes are drawn to a faint trail of hair that starts just below his navel and disappears under the waistband of his jeans. And if Briggs thought that the flash of skin was distracting it doesn’t compare to the smug grin plastered on Mike’s face. The kid is soaring on the high of a successful first bust and his grin is blinding. Briggs doesn’t fight his own smile this time.

Then everything sort of goes to hell and the Vzakonye are using Felix’s family as insurance. And right in the middle of this shit storm is none other than Mike Warren. Hell of a first day, kid, he thinks to himself as he listens to the transmission. He can’t help but swell with pride as the kid dances around the Russians like a pro. Then they take Mike to a second location and Briggs gets a bad feeling about it. “I can get in there,” he tells Silvo. Within minutes he’s on his bike and heading for 502 Worthington. 

Johnny once said the one thing that allowed him to give himself completely to the surf was fear. Fear was the only obstacle to his paradise. It was overcoming said fear that set his soul free as he caught his perfect wave. He also said that was probably why Briggs could never do it. Nothing scared Briggs. Briggs was the infinite picture of calm. He never let fear control him. Until he saw one of Vzakonye’s men pick up his gun and aim it at Mike. He didn’t think, he threw himself into the wave and shot because suddenly a world without this kid seemed like a world with less good in it. He wishes he could say he regrets riding the wave into shooting the second perp but he doesn’t. Not when he watches the gun fall from his hands onto the pavement, landing next to Mike’s feet. 

The kid covered for him and he already knew Mike well enough to know it was eating him up inside. He watched him give the internal affairs agent his best smile as he confirmed Briggs’ story. He played it off perfectly, except the smile didn’t reach his eyes for a second. They say that at Graceland, your lies are your life. And Briggs just handed the kid his first lie. 

They have a bonfire that night. It’s a celebration slash belated welcome party. The familiar smell of burning wood fills his nostrils and the alcohol leaves a pleasant sensation running through his limbs. He takes Mike aside while Johnny and Charlie are drunkenly attempting to dance and gives him the speech on learning to live his lies. That frustrated look Mike has been carrying for the past couple days comes back. “How do you just keep from going crazy?” he asks Briggs, almost pleading.

“Who says I haven’t?”

Mike isn’t looking at him when he replies, “No one, sir.”

He finally looks at Briggs after he says it and they just stare at each other for a moment. Briggs honestly surprised. Mike didn’t say it with malice or accusation. He said it with an almost acceptance, like he’s finally letting go of his hero worship and replacing it with something else. Something that makes Briggs feel a little more free, gives him a little bit more room to breathe. The silence stretches with no words between them and Briggs begins to lean in, dying to know what those lips feel like against his own. Mike’s eyes widen slightly before he starts to move closer to Briggs, too. And that’s when Mike’s phone rings and he excuses himself, giving Briggs a chance to collect himself because – god, was he really about to make out with his fucking trainee right in front of the rest of this team. He opens another beer and tries not to make it obvious he’s watching Mike in the distance.

Once he catches Johnny giving him a pointed look, he gives up and opens another beer and makes his way over to Mike. He’s just ended the call when Briggs reaches him and doesn’t say who was on the other end – something else that raises the suspicions he’s had since the kid got suddenly reassigned to Graceland. 

“Hey,” he says, and Mike nearly startles. “We’re missing you back there.” And he honestly wishes he was lying about that one because it makes him feel pathetic. He hints around at Mike’s abrupt reassignment for a bit then straight out asks him if he knows why he got transferred. Mike looks him in the eye and says, “No, sir.”

And Briggs wants to believe him.

Regardless, whatever it was that was about to happen between them before Mike’s phone rang, the moment’s passed. They head back to the fire pit - Briggs bumping his shoulder once against Mike’s – where Johnny is currently telling Charlie something about being a Learjet pilot and his current girlfriend not being as smart as Levi. He’s waving a bike lock around as if this accentuates the story. Charlie is giggling the way she only does when she’s well on her way past tipsy to drunk. She catches sight of them and makes her way towards them, hand thrown out in attempt to balance her self. She grabs Mike by the strings of his hoodie and drags him out to the makeshift dance floor she and Johnny have created next to the fire. 

At first, Mike is stiff and unsure of how to move between Charlie and Johnny. Briggs watches from his spot across the fire, only occasionally swaying his hips whenever they call for him to join. Dancing has never really been his thing and he’s far from drunk enough to do it now. Eventually, Mike loosens up, lets Charlie guide his hips in the rhythm of whatever terrible music Johnny is playing. He laughs at something Charlie says and his eyes catch Briggs’ own. Mike smiles shyly at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He raises his bottle in salute and Briggs raises his own in return, smiling back. Their exchange is interrupted by Johnny shoving another shot in Mike’s hand. Briggs follows the curve of Mike’s neck as he throws his head back to take the shot. He’s laughing again alongside Johnny and Charlie. And Briggs is content to watch his team take the break they need. And for tonight, allows himself to think it’s all going to work out.

An hour later Johnny is absolutely smashed. He’s still muttering about Mike being a lightweight who doesn’t know how to party as Mike and Briggs attempt to get him up the stairs to Graceland. Charlie is practically skipping up the stairs ahead of them, surprising only Mike with her ability to drink Johnny under the table. They finally get him inside and Mike is giggling as they dump Johnny on the couch. Johnny passes out instantly. 

They all say their good nights and Briggs is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s been too long since that’s happened. When he wakes up, it’s barely dawn and he hears movement downstairs. He lazily rubs the sleep from his eyes and grabs a shirt before heading downstairs. He finds Mike standing in the kitchen, half in his wetsuit and stealing a glass of Dale’s orange juice. 

“You got a death wish, kid?” he asks, staring pointedly at the orange juice. He’s still holding his shirt in one hand and doesn’t miss the way the kid’s eyes trail over him, absently licking the taste of orange juice from his lips.

“I almost got shot yesterday. Twice,” he says. “Figured I could milk my juice stealing privileges for a bit longer.” 

Briggs laughs at that, doesn’t ignore the way his stomach drops when an image of Mike at the wrong end of a gun flashes in his mind. He figures he might as well get used to it, something tells him that this kid is going to attract trouble like a fucking magnet. 

He gestures at Mike’s wetsuit. “You going for a surf?”

Mike looks down at himself. “I was,” he says. “But Johnny’s still asleep.”

And as if on cue, a loud snore carries into the kitchen from the living room. 

“Give me five minutes,” he says, pulling on his shirt. Johnny is going to kill him for not waking him up but right now he doesn’t care. “We’ll ride together.”

Twenty minutes later, he and Mike are floating in the water on their boards. The sun is rising and the swells are coming in. A comfortable silence has fallen between them. He glances over at Mike, who’s had a calculating look on his face since they left the house. 

“Got something on your mind, Mikey?” he asks. 

Mike looks over at him and says nothing. Instead he grabs the rail of Briggs’ board and pulls him closer. He gets his hand around the back of Briggs’ neck and hauls him the rest of the way in. He kisses him. Mike kisses him and it should be awkward with them trying to balance between their boards and the bitter taste of sea salt on Mike’s skin but Briggs has forgotten about everything. All he knows is the pressure of Mike’s lips on his own and the feeling of Mike’s tongue coaxing his mouth open with lazy motions. The kid only has to ask once. He opens his mouth fully to Mike and he leaves all the shit in his life behind. After a few moments, Mike makes to move away and Briggs threads his fingers through his hair and pulls him back, using his newfound leverage to get a better angle. For just a while longer, Briggs catches the ride and lets himself feel larger than life. Eventually, they have to pull away for air and Mike’s hand is still resting on Briggs’ jaw. 

“Nah, bro,” he says, smiling. “Not a thing.”

He gets down on his board and begins paddling towards the swells coming in and Briggs knows he is utterly fucked. Because Mike came into his life less than a week ago and crept past the walls that Briggs had carefully constructed and disguised as zen without so much as lifting a finger. And Briggs just followed the rhythm of the wave and let it take over.

He’s watching Mike attempt to catch his perfect ride when Johnny paddles up to him. Johnny calls him an asshole for not waking him up once and he’s over it. They sit together, Briggs still a bit dazed and Johnny not yet fully awake.

“You found it, didn’t you, bro?” he asks after a few minutes, he doesn’t bother saying what it is because they both know what he’s talking about. 

In the distance, Mike has finally gotten on his board and his shouts and laughter carry all the way to their boards. He bails almost instantly but it doesn’t matter. Beside him Johnny yells, “Yeah, Mikey!” 

Briggs never answers Johnny’s question. He doesn’t need an answer anyways. Because Johnny's too damn perceptive for his own good sometimes.

What Briggs has found is his high, the one thing that can make him forget all his lies and threadbare sanity for one moment as he rides it. And he’s found it in a rookie agent from the east coast. Because when Briggs looks at Mike, he doesn’t feel the need to pursue the perfect bottle of rum and call it zen. When he kisses Mike, he feels alive like he hasn’t felt in years. Mike Warren makes him believe there’s still good in the world, even if it’s just for a moment at dawn.

The kid is a perfect wave.


End file.
